Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

  “Rafe was a dedicated guardian and a loyal member of the pack. We thank the Great One for the gift of his life and companionship. May he bask in spring’s warm sunshine for all eternity. Rest well, warrior, protector and friend,” the Oakkrin recited.

  As the grove grew silent once more, all of the wolves turned and walked off into the forest; only Micah remained behind. He changed to human form once again and watched as the Oakkrin wove their roots in a protective shell over the body of Rafe.

  “How many must die because of me?” Micah asked quietly.

  “Rafe did not die because of you, Micah. He died protecting a member of the pack, just as you would have done were the situations reversed. Lay the blame where it belongs, on the one who sent those creatures, and give thanks to the Great One that no more were killed,” The Oakkrin replied in their leaf rustling voice.

  “If I did not have reason to oppose Mortow already, then this act alone would be enough to incur my undying hatred. I make you a pledge. No Garolith shall escape my vengeance. I will hunt them down until none are left, and I will see Mortow buried in their ashes,” Micah vowed.

  “Be careful, Micah. Challenging a wizard backed by such creatures will be a formidable undertaking.”

  “No, my friends. The time for taking care has passed. Mortow wanted me to sit this war out because he was unsure of what I represent. It is time to show him why he fears me so,” Micah said, then spun on his heels and ran back to his house.

  Micah moved with a speed born of rage. He stormed inside closing the door behind him with a resounding slam. Micah refilled his flask, took a sip from it, and put it away. His initial intent had been to teleport to the main camp within The Slot, but as he forced himself to think, he realized that maybe he should go to the western entrance instead. The Garoliths had come for him. Maybe there were more stalking this side of the pass. He could not imagine Mortow attacking on only one front, and Micah was certain Merric and Commander Salic would have troops stationed to guard their flank.

  Micah spoke the words of transport and appeared a good distance back from the Western entrance to The Slot. At this distance, no mortal eyes would be able to see him, though he could see perfectly in the starry night. He contemplated the stars for a moment. The celestial vista might have been breathtaking, had he not been so focused on thoughts of destruction.

  From his vantage point, Micah could see that Commander Salic had, indeed, stationed men to guard the rear. They appeared alert. Micah’s acute hearing caught the faintest thump. He cocked his head, listening intently. Now that he was focused on it, he could hear the tramp of marching boots, but these were not the foot falls of humans. They were much too heavy. It could only be ogres or trolls. Scanning the ridge to his right, he saw a long line of troops marching for The Slot. It would be some time before they would be within sight or sound of the King’s guards. Time to instill a degree of fear within the enemy.

  Micah stretched his neck to the right slightly and opened his mouth wide. He felt his canines with his tongue as they elongated and smiled in anticipation of the blood-letting he was about to indulge. His hands began to tingle and his nails grew into razor points. Micah let loose a roar that blasted forth with the volume of an entire pride of lions, and then he began to run.

  He saw the column of warriors pause and look around in confusion; that's also when he saw the robed figure leading them. Micah adjusted his course ever so slightly and had the pleasure of seeing Maklin’s eyes widen in fright. Before the wizard was able to utter two words, Micah slammed into him and raised him up by the throat. He saw the trolls start to move, their initial shock now passed; but Micah knew they would be too slow by far.

  Meeting Maklin’s dazed eyes for just an instant; Micah threw back his head, opening his mouth to allow Maklin to see his fangs then sunk his teeth into Maklin’s throat tearing it out. He inhaled the hot coppery aroma as he gorged himself on the wizard’s gushing life’s blood. Micah snapped Maklin’s neck like a dried twig then, hurled his lifeless body at the closest charging troll.

  Maklin’s corpse fell to the ground in a bloody, twisted heap as it bounced off the big troll’s chest, barely slowing him. Micah stood his ground waiting on the big warrior, who swung a massive battle hammer at his head. Micah raised his hand and grabbed the hammer just beneath the head and yanked it from the troll’s hands. With incredible speed and agility, Micah leapt into the air and brought the hammer down on the troll’s skull, caving it in.

  Others were upon him now, it did not matter. Micah was lost in the blood lust he had struggled against for millennia. All any of this band would see before they died were two glowing red eyes and blood cover fangs. In the span of a few heartbeats, the battle cries turned to bellows of terror and death screams.

  Death walked the world tonight as it had not done in over two thousand years. As Micah killed yet another and began to drink, a small corner of his mind gibbered in near hysteria, wondering if he would be able to stop himself.

  The soldiers guarding The Slot heard the roar and shifted nervously at their posts. Suddenly, screams of terror came from the south. As those screams grew, the men shivered and made warding signs against evil as they prepared to meet the horror they knew must surely be coming for them.

  One of the guards ran into The Slot for reinforcements as the others continued to listen. The tortured cries seemed to go on without end. A large contingent of soldiers came pouring out of the pass and formed a defensive line. Their stoic faces slowly turned to worry as they too heard the continuous screams. After nearly an hour, the last horrific wail cut off and its dying echo faded. The men shifted restlessly as they continued to watch the south. Abruptly and seemingly out of thin air, a shadowy figure stood before them, its appearance causing more than one man to cry out in fright. The figure stood motionless, its smoldering red eyes slowly fading.

  Micah felt the rush of life flowing through his body. It had been many centuries since he had given in to that kind of blood lust, and his instincts screamed for more. He forced himself to stop short of the men guarding The Slot. He had to regain control, and the presence of living blood made the task much harder. Fortunately, this was a battle Micah had won before. He stood staring at the frightened soldiers. Part of him reveled in their fear as he applied a meditation technique taught long ago to the Avari to calm their minds. As he thought on the Avari, his mind slowed and he could feel the hunger fading. When he was certain he had complete control once more, Micah walked slowly forward calling out to the soldiers to ease their fright.

  “Have no fear. It is I, Lord Micah,” Micah shouted. He could see the soldiers visibly relax, but they remained on guard and lifted their torches higher. As Micah came into the circle of light cast by the torches, the soldiers gasped.

  The sergeant of the contingent ran forward when he saw the Avari Lord was covered in blood from head to boot. “My lord, are you injured?” Sergeant Bale asked in concern.

  Micah smiled as he glanced down at himself and shook his head. “The blood is not mine, Sergeant…” Micah prompted

  “Sergeant Bale, My lord. You look as if you bathed in a slaughter house, no offense meant, My Lord,” the sergeant commented.

  “None taken, Sergeant. In a matter of speaking, I guess I did.”

  “Then that was you and your men we heard? Where are they?” Sergeant Bale asked looking out beyond Micah.

  “What you and your men heard was a large contingent of trolls that were marching on your position,” Micah explained.

  The Sergeant’s head snapped around searching for the enemy, and he called out to him men to ready themselves.

  “You needn’t worry, Sergeant. They are all dead.”

  “Then we thank you and your Avari for that,” Sergeant Bale said sincerely and he motioned for his men to stand down.

  “I am afraid it was only me, Sergeant. All of my people are at the other end of the pass with your Commander,” Micah informed him.

  “But those screams, my lo
rd. It sounded as if they were being ripped apart.”

  “What you heard was the sound of an enemy being punished in a manner befitting their aggression,” Micah stated vehemently.

  Seeing the look in Micah’s eyes, Sergeant Bale took a step back.

  Micah had to reign in his temper. It was far too easy to let it slip once unleashed. “Sorry Sergeant, it has been a trying day. My anger was not meant to be directed at you,” Micah apologized.

  “Quite alright, my lord. I know the effects of battle nerves. You said they were all dead?”

  “Aye. You need not worry. Mortow is now short one wizard and a good number of trolls. May their spirits haunt him to his grave.”

  “I’ll join you in that curse, my lord. Would you care for some food or drink?”

  “No, thank you, Sergeant.” Micah reached into a pocket and pulled out a small silver coin. He mumbled something the Sergeant could not hear then handed the coin to the man. “Sergeant, there were two Garoliths in Branna earlier today.”

  “Garoliths, my lord?”

  “They are an ancient evil awakened by Mortow. You will know them if you ever see them. Huge cloaked figures wielding massive scythes. If any should happen to appear here, flip that coin into the air. It will signal me, and I shall come deal with them.”

  Sergeant Bale looked at the coin more closely. It appeared to be a standard Brannan silver piece. “The coin is magic, my lord?”

  “No, but there is a minor spell on it that will only function once. Do not, under any circumstance, try to engage the Garoliths. If you see them, run,” Micah said emphatically.

  “What are they?”

  “If I told you, you would not believe me. Hell, I didn’t believe it until I saw them.”

  “My lord, if you say it is so, I will believe you. All know the Avari reputation and, from what we heard tonight, I think that reputation has been vastly under rated,” Sergeant Bale replied.

  “Very well. They are undead creatures; cloaked skeletons from the waist up, rotting snake carcasses from the waist down. They are big, maybe fifteen feet tall with half again that much tail. As I said, you will know them if you see them. Pray to the Great One that you never do, Sergeant.”

  “You were right. It is hard to believe, but I’ll not doubt your word. It is a sad day when nightmares become real,” Sergeant Bale admitted, shaking his head.

  “Aye. Now I must be off. I should meet with Commander Salic and tell him of what has happened here,” Micah said and began to walk forward.

  “My lord?”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “You said there were two Garoliths in Branna. Do you know where they may have gone?”

  “I sent them both to Hell,” Micah said quietly.

  Sergeant Bale’s eyes widened and his face lit with a smile. “You killed two of those beasts?”

  “Aye, but not before they had killed a dear friend of mine and injured another. Both were exceptional warriors, but they never stood a chance. Remember the coin, Sergeant. Leave the Garoliths to me,” Micah cautioned.

  “As you say, my lord. It is heartening to know they can be defeated.”

  “Stay vigilant, Sergeant. May the Great One watch over you and your men,” Micah said, then walked through the men, who parted respectfully before him.

  Once Micah was out of sight he passed his hand over his clothing and spoke the words of a spell that he'd used countless times. As his hand passed over a spot, the clothing and skin underneath emerged clean and unstained. “I should have had the presence of mind to do that before I came to the camp,” Micah muttered, chastising himself. He shrugged and spoke the words of transport that would take him to where he sensed Michael was currently located.

  Pace saw the Avari Lord just slightly after Branik and Reek had sprung to their feet. Drawing his axe, Pace leaped in front of Dain, startling him from sleep. Michael came to his feet more slowly. Somehow, he knew who was behind him even as he slept near the fire. It had been a deep and rejuvenating sleep. Something he could not recall having enjoyed for a long time; not since Karin was alive.

  Pace saw the two Avari bow deeply and saw Michael do the same after he had risen. All sense of danger seemed to fade, but he did not relax his stance.

  “The young healer is quite safe in my presence, Master Dwarf. I assure you. Dain knows me,” Micah spoke as he inclined his head to his Avari. Stepping forward he greeted Michael with a hand on his shoulder.

  Michael reached up and clasped the hand, holding it in place he stared into Micah’s eyes. “Micah, I am sorry.”

  Micah squeezed Michael’s shoulder once more then moved to take a seat in front of the fire.

  Dain blinked his eyes, fearing they were still sleep addled; yet the image did not go away. He walked around the fire even as Pace tried to stop him. Dain came to a stop before Micah, his face an almost comical mask of confusion.

  “What is it that baffles you, Dain?” Micah asked softly.

  “You have an aura, my lord,” Dain blurted in surprise.

  Micah merely nodded his head. “And what color do you see?” Micah asked curious.

  “Purple, my lord,” Dain replied in shock.

  “Ah yes, that would make sense,” Micah nodded once again.

  “I have never seen purple, my lord. How can it make sense?” Dain asked.

  “What two colors make purple?” Micah asked simply.

  “My lord?”

  “Red and blue combined make purple,” Michael offered as he sat down next to Micah.

  “What you see is a melding of two colors, two emotions if you will, so completely that you cannot discern them individually,” Micah explained.

  “Auras do not work that way, my lord,” Dain replied.

  “And I do not work the way most men do; is that not true young healer?” Micah commented alluding to their previous conversation.

  Dain gulped audibly and nodded.

  “Master Dwarf,” Micah turned his attention to Pace. “Would you be so kind as to report my presence to Commander Salic and Wizard Merric? Inform them that I will be joining them shortly.”

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I am responsible for Dain’s safety,” Pace said though there was no apology in his tone.

  Micah smiled genuinely at the dwarf. “You have a stout heart and a strong sense of duty, master dwarf, but Dain is completely safe in his present company. There is no one here that wishes him harm,” Micah informed him.

  “It is ok, Pace. I know Lord Micah. He is a, a friend,” Dain stumbled.

  Pace heard the shudder in Dain’s voice and gripped his axe tighter. “I am sorry, my lord, but I cannot leave my post,” Pace said with finality.

  Micah laughed loudly and held his hands up as in surrender. “Master Pace, you do your race, any race for that matter, proud,” Micah said rising to his feet. “I will inform them myself.”

  Michael stood up as Micah did. “Let me try something before you go,” Michael offered.

  “What do you wish to try?”

  “Just something I have been thinking about, but haven’t had the time to experiment with. It will only take a moment,” Michael explained.

  “Very well. It is the only way to learn.”

  Michael closed his eyes and thought about Merric, summoning a mental picture of him in his mind. When he had the image sharply focused, he sent a thought at the image. A few seconds passed and then he heard Merric’s voice next to him. Michael opened his eyes to see the Headmaster staring at him wearing a scrutinizing gaze with which he had become very familiar.

  “What in the world did you just do, Michael?” Merric asked still eyeing him.

  “I wanted to try to communicate with you over a distance. Micah wanted you to know he was here, so I figured this was as good a time as any to try,” Michael explained.

  “You could have accomplished the same thing telepathically. I was not that far away,” Merric informed him.

  “Then I guess this was not a good test,” Mich
ael said shrugging.

  “I think it was an exceptional test, given that I saw and heard you as if you were standing in front of me as you are now. Telepathically, I would have only heard your thoughts. Still, I'm curious about your abilities with such communication. I would be quite interested to know if you could do that over a greater distance.”

  “When time and opportunity permit, I will try again,” Michael assured him.

  Merric turned his focus on Micah. “I am glad you were able to join us, Micah. Your presence does much to settle the nerves,” Merric said sincerely.

  “It seems not everyone is calmed by my appearance,” Micah informed Merric, gesturing to Dain and Pace.

  “They only know the legend and not the man,” Merric replied. “Be at ease, Master Pace. Lord Micah is one of the good guys,” Merric assured him.

  Pace eyed the Avari Lord one more time then slung his axe at his side. “I apologize, my lord, but Dain’s safety takes precedent over civility,” Pace offered.

  “As well it should. Dain is a very important man. Empathic healers are extremely rare, and one of Dain’s ability is even rarer still. I take no offense, Master Pace. You have acted no different than I would have expected,” Micah replied.

  “Well? What news have you that warrants such an unexpected summons?” Merric asked Micah.

  “Earlier this day two Garoliths paid a visit to my home,” Micah began.

  “Where are they headed?” Merric interrupted worriedly.

  “I would assume their journey to Hell is complete by now. Fear not for your students, Merric. Both are dead. More importantly and closer at hand was the troll contingent that was marching on your rear position,” Micah said ominously.